Chad Lindberg

As children, we are taught to turn the other cheek, but who can deny the visceral thrill of richly deserved revenge, presented in Steven R. Monroe’s I Spit on Your Grave remake as a dish served well past the freezing point?

Anyone familiar with Meir Zarchi’s 1980 original – famously dismissed by Roger Ebert as “a film without a shred of artistic distinction” but hailed by others as a crude testament to feminist fortitude – should recognize the story of Jennifer, the big-city girl beaten and raped by five merciless hillbillies during a retreat in the Louisiana backwoods.